


The Child

by HarmoniaChimera



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Demigods, Doctors & Physicians, Gen, Pagan Gods, Trickster Gods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:01:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24515827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarmoniaChimera/pseuds/HarmoniaChimera
Summary: She thought she didn't really know her father. And then she realised she knew him all too well all along.They are watching.
Kudos: 5





	The Child

People have always misspelled my name. So much that I’ve given up trying to correct them by now. It’s everywhere. My ID badge, my clock-in card, my driver’s licence, it’s all wrong. The only document where it’s written down correctly, is the long, long lost original of my birth certificate. At least according to my mum. The only time I remember seeing my real name written down is when I wrote it down myself as a child. It looked really weird. I never did that again.

I don’t remember much of my father, either. Mum never talked much about him. I don’t even know _his_ real name. Mum only ever called him ‘V’. She would say he was the most organised and well-prepared man she’s ever known. He could achieve amazing feats. She never wanted for anything. Not until he left, at least.

I remember he used to tell me stories about “The Catheter Gods”. How there were three teams, how they had to come up ideas and each adjust tiny details in tandem. He said they were the executioners, that they would give out punishments. I used to ask what they punished. He used to answer, “Arrogance.” And I would laugh. I’d ask what kind of punishments they had and he’d say, “Oh, all sorts”. There were stories about blowing pipes up, and hiding things in plain sight, and wriggling. “There was always a lot of wriggling!” he’d say as he tickled me until I writhed.

I think he was trying to teach me about the value of precision and being prepared, and paying attention to detail. He used to call it the ‘Triple P’. He also used to say, “The Catheter Gods are watching,” and I’d laugh like the silly child I was.

Oh, my father’s stories were the funniest stories I could never remember.

Now that I’m a doctor, I think my father must have been one, too. The Catheter Gods _are_ watching. There are so many things that can go wrong, especially if you’re not prepared. And if his stories did anything, they helped with just that. I’m not forgetful anymore. I know what I’m doing every step of the way, I come prepared, I move with precision. Mum says that I “got it from him”. I think I trained myself to be like him but Mums will say whatever they want, won’t they?

I miss him, sometimes. I’m not sure how I can miss something I’ve never truly known, but every now and then when I’m at work, I’ll be suddenly overcome by this sudden longing. Has he walked these halls before? Can I feel him in the cracks of reality? Is he out there somewhere, doing the same thing in a different hospital? Or is he _up there_ now, watching over me and helping me be better, like he used to?

Some days, it’s like He’s everywhere. When I’m getting things ready, I can see His shadow in my reflection in the window. I can’t tell who it is, but I _know_ it’s Him. Or a patient suddenly looks just like what I always thought He looked like; and then I blink and tighten the tourniquet and He’s gone. Sometimes, a nurse will talk to me but I hear His voice, telling me to always be prepared. After all, the Catheter Gods are watching.

And then some days, it gets even stranger. I realise I forgot to prepare a swab but suddenly it’s right there. My nurse asks me for tape and I there I have it, in my pocket like it’s always been there, even though I never carry tape around because, well, that’s really uncomfortable. Or a seizing patient will stop convulsing for _just_ long enough. I suppose I’m just lucky.

Right?

Also, all the nurses make me get venous access because I “always get it in on the first try”. I used to tell them it was all in the Triple P, but they never believed me. So I started saying that the Catheter Gods are watching and they clearly like me more. It’s a running gag in my hospital now.

That is, it used to be, until today. Because today, on my thirtieth birthday, I _swear_ , Scout’s honour, hand-on-heart, I **_swear_** the catheters I had prepped just multiplied right in front of my eyes. I mean, of course they _didn’t_ , that’s impossible, but unless a nurse pulled a critical success on a Sneak check and entered the perfectly still, silent room in the middle of my night shift when she was supposed to be on her break, and added them to my workspace without triggering my peripheral vision… You get the idea. I was doing my job and it wasn’t going so well, and I thought, ‘Oof, I’m not going to have enough of these at this rate’, and when I looked back at my last remaining one, there were suddenly three more. And that was exactly how many I ended up needing for that patient.

And when I looked up, the shadows clinging to the corners were smiling at me.

 _You are ours_ , they said. _You are the Child._

I ran out of there so fast.

But then later that night, on my break, it all came back to me. My Father’s smiling face as He tickled me and told me stories. His spirit-cold hands. The words he spoke so many times I couldn’t fathom how I could ever remember them differently.

“The Catheter Gods,” he said as I laughed like the silly child I was. “We’re watching, Catheterine.”


End file.
